


Penetration Testing

by Ripplestitchskein



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Mild Smut, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 14:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6910924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ripplestitchskein/pseuds/Ripplestitchskein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan is the head of security at a major corporation, and always thought she was pretty good at it, that is until Killian Jones auditions for a job and seems determined to keep her on her toes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Penetration Testing

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for the lovely capitaine-odette. It was started the week prior to 5.21 and was supposed to be finished by the Monday after to help cushion the blow, but obviously that didn’t happen. Still, I hope it helps with any lingering emotions, and shows how much I appreciate and adore you. 
> 
> Thanks to Sarah (@tnlph) for the read through. You’re the best. #YGD.

 

 

The first time they meet is not Emma’s proudest moment.

 

Phillip had called around 3, the loud blare of her phone jerking her out of a dreamless sleep, barely able to form the word hello as she listened to him explain the situation.

 

Something about suspicious badge activity. Something about a motion sensor in the CEO’s office.  Something about the offline camera.

 

It wasn’t  _ his _ fault. It was protocol.

 

Activity in that office in and of itself was not even unusual. 

 

Regina Mills was known for odd hours and a fierce dedication to her job. 

 

This was not the first phone call Emma had received in the middle of the night, stumbling out of bed and across town just to find the woman, cool as a cucumber, long manicured nails pausing mid-stroke over her keyboard, a sharply angled eyebrow asking silently what Emma was doing there.  

 

But it  _ was _ protocol so Emma dutifully threw a blazer over her nightshirt, hoped Regina wouldn’t look too closely at the black yoga pants that were decidedly  _ not _ business casual attire, and stuffed her feet into sensible heels. 

 

The drive over was spent trying to arrange her hair into something that was less a snarled mess of a ponytail and more an artfully tousled top knot, and just prayed yesterday’s eyeliner could pass for “smokey” rather than hungover.  It wasn’t her best work, but Regina wouldn’t appreciate the effort anyway.

 

Phillip had given her a brief rundown as she walked through the lobby, and it certainly sounded like Regina. No other alerts had been tripped. Nothing else out of the ordinary, no suspicious activity, nothing on the security feeds, nothing in the logs. The camera feed to the private elevator from the parking garage had been down for weeks, a ticket in with the manufacturer, but the motion sensor worked just fine. The same thing had happened just three weeks ago, a late night conference call with Tokyo had Regina in her office before the sun had even thought about rising.

So when she scanned her badge, and opened the rather ostentatious black door of Regina’s office to find a scruffy, if not sharply dressed, and startlingly attractive man, sitting in the stylish yet ergonomic chair of her boss, Emma was understandably shocked.

 

She pushed the door open fully with a crash, reaching inside her blazer for her taser. She realized, a second too late, that she hadn’t actually  _ brought _ her taser, leaving it in its lockbox on her nightstand, her trusty mesh shoulder holster atop it. 

 

She awkwardly removed her hand from inside the jacket.

 

“Who the hell are you?”

 

It seemed her actions were not unnoticed, the man flashed a grin, all white teeth, and he spun the chair to face her more fully. 

 

“There you are love! Was wondering when you’d turn up,” his eyes raked her from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes. “Quite glad you did though.” Emma flushed.

 

“Cut the shit and put your hands on your head.” 

 

The stranger grinned wider but complied immediately, leisurely resting them atop a chaotic black sweep of hair. He leaned back in the chair, taking her in. 

 

“Oh I  _ like _ you,” his tongue pressed into his cheek as he grinned at her.

 

Emma did her best to look threatening, her attempts somewhat hindered by her lack of weapon, her rumpled appearance, and his absolutely infuriating insouciance. 

 

“You might as well tell me who you are and what the hell you’re doing here while we wait,” she said coldly. “My night guard is already calling the cops.”

 

“Oh no need, no need,” the man shook his head. “I’m here on Regina’s explicit instruction.” He tilted the hands resting on his head up to show he meant no harm. “You have my word.”

 

He wasn’t lying, not that she could tell, but his explanation also didn't make any sense, why would Regina let a strange man into her office in the middle of the night? 

 

Something weird and sexual? 

 

The man was certainly plenty attractive, Emma definitely could see that, but she also wasn't even sure if the CEO liked  _ people _ in general, much less participated in bizarre kink sessions in her place of business. She had never even seen the woman bring a date to any of the company events.

 

Which meant that he was there for some nefarious reason, but Regina wouldn't sabotage her own company, right? 

 

Unless he  _ was  _ lying and he was just very, very skilled at it, but why did he think anyone in their right mind would believe that “Your boss told me to.” was a credible cover story? 

 

He was still smiling patiently at her as her brain tried to make sense of the conflicting information, logic and her super power at war with each other. She had a perfect record, she was never wrong, she  _ always  _ knew when someone was lying.

It was why she had chosen this profession in the first place. So something was off here.

 

Emma held her ground, surreptitiously scanning the area to see what she might be able to use as a weapon if this situation got ugly. 

 

“I have a card,” he offered finally, and tilted his head to indicate his jacket. “If I may?” 

 

Emma hesitated a moment before nodding, curiosity overriding her better judgement, and he reached into it with one arm, the other still firmly on his crown and pulled out a crisp white business card. Perhaps sensing she wouldn’t appreciate any sudden movements he placed it on the glass top of Regina’s desk and slid it across, leaning back out of arm’s reach when he met the edge. 

 

“Killian Jones,” he said as she picked it up. The name on it read the same, beneath a logo for JR Enterprise Security and the appropriate contact details. 

 

“This doesn’t tell me anything about what the hell you’re doing here,” she said finally.  He motioned for her to turn it over. 

 

On the back was what Emma recognized as Regina’s personal cell phone number and what certainly  _ looked  _ like her signature. 

 

“Consider it my-” he paused, running his tongue along his bottom lip, thoroughly amused. Her eyes tracked the movement before darting up to his own “-get out of jail free card. By all means darling, call her.” 

 

He nodded to the phone and waved a hand, reaching down to slide the device across the desk with a small squeal of plastic on glass. 

 

Emma eyed him suspiciously. It  _ was _ Regina’s private number, and the elegant scrawl looked identical to Regina’s own. She scanned his face, searching for any signs of a lie and finding none, picked up the phone. He gave a small encouraging nod.

 

Emma dialed the number not from the card but rather from her own memory, not trusting the familiar digits even for a second. He seemed to notice this too and his smile widened. 

 

If Regina ever slept Emma was not aware of when that could possibly occur. She answered on the second ring, sounding for all the world like she could be at this very desk working in the middle of a weekday afternoon, not sleeping at 3:30 on a Saturday night.

 

“I see you discovered our visitor Miss Swan,” the woman said in lieu of hello, sounding amused. “He’s better than I expected. Put me on speaker.” Regina ordered crisply. 

 

Numbly Emma took the phone away from her ear and pressed the button to comply, setting the receiver down.

 

“You’re hired,” Regina’s voice rang out. “I’ll have Sydney draw up the contract on Monday.” In response to that rather bizarre statement the man named Killian Jones just grinned delightedly.

 

“That is indeed excellent news,” Killian said. “I look forward to working with you and your….” he gave Emma a wink. “Loss Prevention team in the future.“ 

 

Emma’s mouth opened and closed a few times, confusion, anger, and just utter bewilderment all flashed through her one after the other as this strange man fucking winked at her while her boss offered him what seemed to be a job in the middle of the night.

 

What was happening? 

 

Was this a dream? 

 

The surreal overbright office and her own weariness certainly gave that effect, all white and black decor and harsh fluorescence.  

 

“We’ll discuss  _ your  _ performance in the morning Miss Swan. Please inform Phillip it’s a false alarm so we don’t add a penalty on top of all this embarrassment,” Regina said brusquely and there was the click of the phone as the woman hung up without another word. 

 

“That sounded rather ominous,” Killian, said sympathetically standing up from his seat in Regina’s chair. “Apologies lass.” 

 

“What the fuck is happening?” Emma asked the air in a whisper. 

 

“I’m Killian Jones and-” he repeated.

 

“You said that already,” Emma snapped. 

 

“ _ And,-”  _ he continued, giving her an exasperated look, “This was a trial go for my company to take over your penetration testing.” He motioned to the card still clutched in her hand and sent her a charming grin. “We’re a bit unorthodox in our contract negotiations you’ll find.”

 

Penetration testing. For a moment she drew a blank, the first thing that jumped into her mind at the word “penetration” certainly wasn’t appropriate for the situation and the way his accent wrapped around the word  _ was _ a bit obscene. And then her sleep deprived brain righted itself. 

 

Security. 

 

He had been hired to see if he could break through their security. 

 

Which he had. 

 

Security that  _ she  _ was in charge of, security that she was responsible for. 

 

Emma wanted to cry. 

 

It was probably pretty apparent, by the fact that he had not only gained access to the facility, but somehow managed to worm his way into the actual fucking CEO’s office that she was probably in very serious trouble. She might even be fired. 

 

She couldn’t breathe.

 

Emma clutched the desk, the card fluttering forgotten to the floor. Sensing her distress Killian reached out, his hand warm and reassuring on her arm as he tried to keep her from completely falling over. 

 

“Easy lass,” he said softly. “It’s not your fault.” Emma gave him a wry look as he motioned for her to take the now empty chair, guiding her gently into sitting as she did her best not to hyperventilate. 

 

“How exactly is some strange guy breaking into my boss’s office  _ not  _ my fault? I’m head of security!” 

 

“I take your point, and normally it would be a valid one,” Killian conceded. “But it wasn’t like you made it easy on me. I just had a distinct advantage.” He reached into his coat again and withdrew an ID badge, one belonging to Leroy Minor, Operational Security Supervisor it said in clear bold letters, Emma’s 2nd in command. 

 

Emma was going to kill him. She was going to wring his tiny little neck. 

 

“One of your associates left this at my brother’s bar.” Killian eyed the badge with a frown and made a small hmming noise. 

 

Emma went to reach for it but he snatched it back with a click of his tongue and a smile. 

 

“So I took advantage of the opportunity and offered Ms. Mills a trial run. Show her what my firm is capable of.  _ Her _ terms were that I get you to call her from within her own office. She seemed skeptical I could do it actually, bit of a blow to the ego if I'm honest, but she spoke very highly of your skills.”

 

Realization washed over Emma followed swiftly by cold fury. 

 

“You already knew you could get in when you set up the test run,” Emma said starting to rise from her seat, unsure of what she was going to do after that, but she was pretty sure it might involve punching. Killian held up a placating hand and stepped back, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That’s cheating!” 

 

“That’s business, darling,” he raised a eyebrow and smiled fully. “Don’t worry, when I present my official report to Ms. Mills I’ll be sure to give your security protocols a glowing review. I would have managed it eventually of course, but it would have been  _ exceedingly _ more difficult.” 

 

“I could lose my job for this,” Emma exclaimed, her voice cracking almost against her will. That seemed to sober him, the smug smile wiped from his face in an instant at the look of despair on hers.

 

“I assure you, Swan, was it?” he smiled gently. “This doesn’t reflect on  _ you  _ in anyway. I had an advantage and I will make sure she knows that in my report. At worst you’ll have to type up a memo or give a training on increased identification badge safety. “ 

  
  


He leaned in, a whiff of his scent overwhelming her senses for a moment and said softly. “It’s all part of the process. One which I am very much looking forward to.”

 

Emma glared at him. 

 

“This won’t happen again buddy, trust me on that.”  

 

The man’s eyes practically twinkled, rocking back on his heels as he took her in. 

 

“Oh, Swan, I do love a challenge.” 

 

________

 

The first test might have been his point, he had caught her off guard after all, but the second victory was decidedly hers. 

 

Killian hadn’t only relied on Leroy’s forgotten badge and dumb luck she’d found out as she read through his exhaustive and extremely comprehensive report. 

 

He might have played it off like it was solely just the result of fortune and charm, but there were obviously some very real security problems with the company that he had spent a fair bit of time researching and learning about, figuring out what made them tick and all the potentially useful ways of gaining access. If the large binder that was unceremoniously dropped on her desk by a wry eyed Regina was any indication, he had more than earned the job. His research was methodical and comprehensive and a little bit scary.

 

They had some serious problems. 

 

Problems it was up to Emma to fix. Problems that any of Regina’s rather unscrupulous enemies could take advantage of rather easily. A fact that Regina reminded her of with no shortage of vitriol first thing the following day. 

 

Which is how Emma found herself agreeing to regular, random assessments by his firm, and herself mandatorily “volunteered” to be part of a committee that included her extremely disappointed CEO and the infuriating man himself. 

 

Their first official committee meeting had been professional enough, Killian presenting a detailed action plan and a litany of suggestions that could begin implementation immediately. It was rather faster than the corporate wheels normally turned, but Regina’s competitors didn’t sleep and neither could  _ they _ afford to. 

 

It was quite a switch from the charming flirt from the early hours of the morning, this upstanding professional who outlined his plans with a boyish earnestness Emma struggled not to find endearing. He had whooshy slide transitions, and a clicker thing, and he tugged at his hair when he got excited. It was awful. 

 

However, despite it being a rather large blow to her ego, completely and utterly infuriating, and extremely stressful, it was also an excellent way to see how  _ he _ ticked. 

 

The first thing she learned about her new associate was that Killian Jones was not above using every tool in his arsenal, a fact which became readily apparent weeks later when Ariel, the main lobby receptionist, offhandedly mentioned the new IT guy’s dreamy blue eyes and delicious accent while she made her lemon ginger tea in the break room.

 

Emma almost dropped her bearclaw.

 

She had skimmed the new employee email from the hiring department just that morning and hadn’t seen any mention of a new IT staff member. She had, however, personally been on high alert for any mentions of attractive, charming men, with accents. More than usual anyway. 

 

Killian Jones was dangerous, that much she knew, and it was good to be prepared for any sudden sneak attacks. 

 

Not to mention he had pretty much told her to expect exactly that at their last meeting, leaning across the arm of the conference room chair, his cologne filling her nose, breath whispering across her cheek as he murmured lowly about testing her defenses by showing up when she least suspected.

 

It took a lot for her not to grab Ariel by the shoulders to shake the woman and demand to know his whereabouts immediately. 

 

Instead Emma very calmly set her own coffee aside, finished her pastry, sucked the sticky sugar off her fingers, and took a few deep calming breaths before casually inquiring where she might find this new, dreamy eyed co-worker. 

  
  


He had apparently set himself up in a smaller, lesser used conference room after verifying with Ariel it was free for the day, citing that his own work space was being fumigated after the last occupant, apparently a very untidy individual, had attracted a host of unwanted pests. 

 

It was a nice cover story, one gullible Ariel had bought hook line and sinker as she not only told him the room was free for the day, but the rest of the week as well, and cheerfully gave him the key to the lockbox on the ethernet port. 

 

Which is where Emma found him, his computer open in his lap, feet propped casually on the conference room table, one crossed over the other, the absolute picture of relaxation in a well cut business suit. 

 

She observed him for a moment through the narrow rectangular window of the door, a small smile on his face as he no doubt succeeded in something that was bound to get their head of Network Security written up later that afternoon. 

 

Emma took a deep breath, counted to 5, and then flung the door open, entering the room with a loud screaming yell.  

 

It was well worth the shriek it earned her from Mary Margaret in Human Resources, whose office was unfortunately right next to the infiltrated conference room, to see the man actually fall backwards in his chair, legs flying up, wheels spinning. 

 

He barely managed to keep ahold of his laptop as he landed hard on his back, the air whooshing from his lungs. He panted for a moment, trying to recover and turned his head automatically towards the door a moment late, gaping at her in wide eyed disbelief. 

 

Emma leaned against the door jamb, a grin creeping across her face as he floundered, looking for all the world like a turtle as he tried to rise rather gracelessly. 

 

“Bad form Swan,” He said when he got to his feet, smiling despite himself and bracing himself on the table for a few more deep breaths. “Sneaking up on a man like that.” 

 

“Oh,  _ I’m _ the one with bad form,” Emma raised an eyebrow. “Says the guy who flirted his way in here.” 

 

Killian looked down still smiling as he untangled his legs from the brilliant yellow cable now wrapped around them. Even a bit caught off guard, he was still cute she noted bitterly, his ears bright red and his hair sticking up awkwardly at the side. Emma ignored the slight flutter in her ribcage. 

 

“I was simply cordial,” he said and eyed her suspiciously. “Jealous?” 

 

“Please,” she rolled her eyes. “Probably not the best tactic to play the Handsome Nerd From Another Country card if you’re maintaining a low profile.” 

 

“Why Swan,” Killian was all out grinning now, picking up the chair from the floor. “I’m flattered by your attentions.” 

 

“Please. Don’t even try it,” Emma said, glad when her cheeks only tinted a little pink. “We’re definitely not doing that.”

 

“Oh? Doing what exactly?” he asked brightly, gathering up his equipment and shoving it into a black canvas backpack. He seemed equal parts annoyed, amused and intrigued, but completely unable to keep his expression anything less than gleeful.

 

“Casually flirting,” Emma said bluntly, and shook her head. “That won’t work on  _ me _ buddy.”  

 

Killian made a little “Oh” shape with his mouth and nodded like he didn’t entirely believe her, eyebrows furrowing in the middle. 

 

“We could try more formal flirting if you prefer?” he suggested, shouldering his now packed backpack and stepping into her space. 

 

He was very warm, Emma thought wildly, and tall, very tall, tongue darting out to slowly lick his bottom lip as he looked at her consideringly. She felt the crown of her head burn as she watched the movement, a little jolt of attraction behind her belly button crying out “Danger”, but she didn’t move. 

 

“Don’t think you can distract me from the fact that your little ploy didn’t work. I got you,” Emma reminded him. 

 

She took him resignedly by the arm with a roll of her eyes, his bicep firm under her grip as she pulled him towards the exit. 

 

He leaned down to whisper in her ear as she marched him down the hallway and across the lobby, his nose stirring the loose tendrils of hair tucked behind it.

 

“That you did Swan, I’ll just have to try a little _harder_ next time _.”_ He leaned back with a wicked smile.

 

Emma gave him a wry look, and an unceremonious shove out of the sliding glass doors of the lobby, depositing him on the empty sidewalk in front of them. 

 

“Thanks for playing, but I think I won this round,” she gave him a falsely bright smile and stepped backwards into the building.

 

“Didn’t I already tell you Swan?” He called as the doors slid closed, and there was that damned twinkle again, “I love a challenge.”

 

________

 

The third time she had to admit, he almost had her. 

  
The email was well crafted, complete with the exact email signature that Mary Margaret usually added, right down to her tiny little “Please consider the environment before printing this email!” with the associated silly cartoon tree. 

 

The subject was slightly scary, just enough to strike fear in the heart of the average person living paycheck to paycheck, but official enough to make it seem like it had really come from the bubbly Human Resource Director. 

It had also been sent to most of the important players in the company, as well as a few of the not so important players. It seemed generic, official, important. 

 

She was so close to falling for it her mouse was hovering over the included link, mere moments away from clicking to see what could possibly be going on with her paycheck, when she noticed the company name in Mary Margaret’s email, slightly mispelled and definitely off from the others in the list.

 

After a few emails to the right people and a mass communication instructing everyone  _ not  _ to click on anything and to alert IT immediately if they had, she found herself dialing his number.     
  


“Why Swan, to what do I owe the pleasure?” if anything he sounded even better over the phone. Emma leaned back in her chair, even more annoyed now that she knew that. She also tried to ignore that he had her number saved.

 

“How’d you know about the stupid little tree?” Emma demanded. 

 

If Killian was unsure what she was talking about for a moment before he answered she couldn’t tell, he just chuckled lightly. 

 

“Let a man have his secrets, love. I have a reputation to uphold.” 

 

“Well that’s kind of your job,” Emma reminded him. “To “inform me of vulnerabilities within my organization”. Remember?” 

 

“Hmm, that’s very true. Wouldn’t want to be negligent in my duties. Tell me darling, are you free for lunch?” It was so smoothly done and so nonchalant Emma almost answered enthusiastically in the affirmative without thinking. 

 

“This is business Jones. Strictly professional,” she reminded him, her breath hitching despite herself.

 

“And it’s a business lunch Swan. What did you think I was asking you to do?” she could hear his smile over the line. She couldn’t help but follow suit, rolling her eyes to her empty office and letting out an exasperated sigh.

 

“Fine. But  _ just  _ business,” 

 

“I shall endeavor to be on my best behavior,” he promised. “Only the most formal flirtation will do.”

 

________

 

She wasn’t sure if it counted as fourth time, but it definitely felt like her victory, until it didn’t.

 

The restaurant was nice, casual dining at its finest, even boasting convenient menu options that specifically catered to the working crowd, promising faster service and lighter portions. There was more than one table of smartly dressed business professionals going about their day. 

 

It was safe and neutral, setting her at at ease instantly. Which she guessed was rather the point. 

 

He was already seated when she arrived and he jumped to his feet upon seeing her, that enthusiastic almost boyish excitement again, hair as ever a mix of well styled dishevelment used as a cover for several very obvious cowlicks. The one by his temple was a particular favorite of hers, and before she could process the rather alarming notion that she had a favorite, he was moving. 

 

The hug he pulled her into after shaking her hand was decidedly  _ not  _ safe or neutral, a “Good to see you Swan” murmured into her ear, a flare of desire shooting between her legs, his hand sliding from her hand up her forearm, his other arm snaking around her waist. 

 

The warmth of his chest against her own, the heady smell of him filling her nostrils, the shock of skin on skin as he momentarily caught her off guard, was rather a lot to take in so unexpectedly, too much personal contact all at once. She almost let him get away with it. 

 

It took a moment for the initial jolt to fade but when it did she was absolutely livid. 

 

Annoyance surged through her as he began to pull away and she could see the beginnings of a smug upturn of his lips they were so close. 

 

No. Not gonna happen.

 

Her palm pressed back against his chest, firm and solid beneath it, and she slid it slowly up to snake around his neck, the skin there hot under her fingertips. She cupped them around, her nails digging into the base of his scalp as she rather forcefully turned his head to the side. Her hips slotted into the space between his slightly spread legs, and she heard the sharp intake of his breath at the contact, felt his chest rise up against her own, and for a second she almost forgot what she was doing. Almost.

 

“Put my badge back in my pocket Jones or so help me,” she hissed out between clenched teeth into his ear, drawing a surprised gasp from his lips. She dug her nails in for emphasis.

 

Killian laughed, a bright happy sound, delighted she had figured him out, and pulled back a bit, putting the barest bit of distance between them as he held up her badge, successfully plucked from the clip on her belt.

 

“Oh Swan, you are good, aren't you?”  His voice was a husky rasp of praise and wonderment as he met her gaze, the badge forgotten.

 

Emma opened her mouth, fully intending to reply, but only managed to lick her lips nervously instead, her fingers closing over his on the plastic card. 

 

He leaned in even closer, drawn in by her expression, tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth. She swayed forward.

 

There was a loud burst of laughter from a nearby table, and Emma blinked, flushing red and snatched the badge fully from his fingertips. She hastily stepped back and slipped rather awkwardly into the booth.

 

“Don't try that again,” she warned him as he joined her, his movements stiff and jerky as he lowered himself down.

 

Emma picked up the menu eyeing him over the edge of it, and did her best to get her breathing under control. 

 

Some secret part of her did a little dance that he seemed outwardly just as affected as she. Across the table he cleared his throat, shifting in the vinyl backed booth and blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog with an imperceptible shake of his head. Definitely affected. 

 

He glanced up, and she panicked a bit, quickly looking down again. 

 

The words on the laminated menu all seemed to blur together. All she could think were random adjectives and nouns: blue eyes, tongue, lips, eyelashes. She blinked rapidly, trying to at least focus on one of the accompanying pictures. 

 

“I think you’ll find the bottom of page 3 has something to your liking,” he said conversationally breaking into her thoughts and bringing her back to the moment. 

 

Curious Emma laid the menu down on the table top and turned to his suggestion.

 

He reached across and gave the menu a few taps with a ringed finger. He had a lot of them she’d noticed, rare for a man, but they suited him well, this one a pewter color with a black onyx stone. He had another plain silver one on his thumb, but nothing on the important one, which pleased her more than it should.

 

Under his poking was a image of an “adult grilled cheese”, an assortment of several cheeses that were  _ not _ American melted

on fancy homemade artisan bread.

 

Emma looked up at him startled, to see him holding his phone. 

 

“How’d you-?” She started to asked but he had already brought up a photo on the device, she recognized it immediately as her Instagram account, which featured a similar meal from a few weeks ago, a diner stop after a rather drink heavy night on the town. 

 

“Did you know Swan-”’ he asked, setting it on the table, “- that is one of  _ six  _ pictures of grilled cheese on your account?”

 

“I like grilled cheese,” Emma said sheepishly, flushing red. “Did  _ you  _ know that it's  _ super _ creepy you’ve apparently been cyber stalking me?”

 

Killian made a scoffing noise and rolled his eyes.

 

“I'll have you know, lass, the very nature of my employment requires that I “cyber stalk” you. In fact, I “cyber stalked” every employee of your company I could find. You’d be surprised the amount of useful information people unknowingly post on their social media accounts,” he smirked at her.

 

Emma found herself oddly disappointed by this, her heart sinking a bit. It wasn’t that she necessarily  _ wanted  _ him to but for a moment it had been flattering that he had made the attempt to find out about her. She supposed he still had technically, but in a much more professional capacity. Killian continued, picking up his phone. 

 

“For instance Swan, I know you have a particular fondness for grilled cheese and onion rings,” he flicked his wrist, his fingertips flying over the glass a few times.

 

“I know you love The Princess Bride-,” he turned his phone to show her a picture she’d posted of the DVD case a few weeks back, “-and that on the 22nd of this past April,  _ Earth Day  _ to be precise, you thanked-,” he paused reading the name, “-at BanditSnowWhite for reminding you via her cartoon tree email signature that you should not print correspondence unnecessarily, keeping you on track every other day of the year.” He turned the phone again, this time the picture was a closeup of her computer monitor, the camera zeroed in on Mary-Margaret’s special environmentally friendly internal email signature. 

 

His grin was smug, and fuck if he didn’t have every right to be. 

  
  


Emma sat back in the booth, dumbstruck. It was amazing, and thorough, and  _ infuriating  _ that he had once again demonstrated how very easy it was to infiltrate their systems, even almost successfully impersonating a high ranking member of staff. 

 

It was also one of the hottest things Emma had ever experienced. He was good. He was very good. 

 

She wet her lips trying once again, within the space of a few minutes to get her breathing and the thumping of her heart under control. What was even happening? 

 

“So you what? Just troll all of my coworker’s social media accounts until you find something you can use?” she asked finally. 

 

“Well... most of them. I have special programs that monitor a majority, looking for specific keywords,” he put his phone away. “But I made sure to give  _ yours  _ my full and prompt attention _. _ ”

 

“So you could get to know EQC’s head of security,”  Emma nodded. “That makes sense.” 

 

Killian looked down at the table, his expression suddenly sheepish. 

 

“Not exactly,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze.

 

“Then why?” She looked at him brow furrowing in confusion. When he looked up again Emma felt her breath catch. The look on his face was all soft intensity and eagerness, something vulnerable but cautious. It wasn’t an expression she was overly familiar with but it was certainly one that she recognized.

 

“So I could get to know Emma Swan of course.”  

  
  


______

 

The last time could probably be considered a draw. 

 

Killian had been busy elsewhere for weeks, he did have other clients after all, and Emma had been in a state of agitation, of more than one kind, pretty much the entire time.

 

After the rather ardent declaration made during their “business lunch”, Killian had been the very epitome of friendly professionalism. Co-workers who follow each other Facebook levels of appropriate interaction. 

 

He liked her status updates. He made neutral comments on her photos. He tagged her in things he thought she might find interesting. It seemed, due to both his very nature and the practice of his profession, that he was  _ extremely  _ good at figuring out what she might find interesting. It was actually a little disconcerting how good he was. 

  
  


He texted her benign things and asked her about her day. He made bad work related puns in their email exchanges that she tried and failed not to find utterly adorable. He left her witty voicemail messages in that amazing accent that she would never admit to saving, hitting the  2 button on her deskphone every time.  

 

The waiter’s arrival had saved Emma the need to say anything the day of their lunch, and Killian had simply given her a soft understanding smile as they ordered, recognizing perhaps that it was a bit  _ too much  _ all at once. 

 

She didn’t really know him. He was technically a co-worker of sorts. Regina would kill her. If it didn’t work out they’d have to keep seeing each other. The EQC contract was too big for Killian to give up and obviously Emma couldn’t leave her job and her livelihood just to avoid some awkwardness. 

  
  


It was disappointing and frustrating and made even worse by aforementioned utterly adorable puns in his email closings.  

 

_ “You just can’t take my byte-ing wit Swan”. _

 

Which is why she hadn’t even been a bit upset that Regina volunteered her for spending her Saturday night, technically her night off,  in his company acting as chaperone while he handled monitoring and testing the network portion of their security. 

  
  


She wanted to see him, to talk to him in person rather than machine. It was a bit concerning to suddenly feel as though she might actually miss someone she barely knew, but the more days that passed where all she got was a tag in a baby goat video and an email asking about the launch date for their computer based anti-phishing training, the more she had to admit that she actually kind of  _ liked _ the smug and infuriating consultant. 

So when she walked into the small conference room that would be their base of operations for the next few hours it took a lot for her to keep her face neutral. It apparently didn’t take that much for him, however. 

 

He barely spared her a glance, his eyes darting up to the door and back to his monitor in a quick blue flash. Emma set down her laptop bag and tried not to feel hurt. 

 

“Won’t be a moment Swan,” he flashed her a friendlier, more reassuring smile, apparently immediately recognizing her reaction. “This is a bit time sensitive.” His fingers moved rapidly over the keyboard and Emma shook her head, busying herself with taking out her own computer. 

 

She didn’t actually have anything of value to contribute to the testing, her and computers enjoying a casual but still wary relationship, but she did have a Parks and Recreation rewatch in the works to keep her occupied while he did his white hat hacker thing.

 

He made a few little hums, a few more clacks, and then he leaned in closer to the screen.   

 

Emma tried not to watch him as she settled in, but it was exceedingly difficult, her eyes drifting up every few seconds. 

 

He looked  _ good  _ in his casual day combo of waistcoat and jeans, his usually well cut suit traded in for tight black denim. He was also something to behold while he worked, a fierce concentration narrowing his eyes and drawing his expressive brows together. His tongue peeking out occasionally as he wet his lips, completely absorbed in his task. 

 

That tongue was damned distracting. 

 

Emma took in a deep breath, half making up her mind right there what to do with the ridiculously attractive, but directly conflicting interest that was Killian Jones. Knowing that professionally it was probably a pretty bad move, but personally, personally he had sent her a Buzzfeed video on microwave desserts just hours ago and let her know via text he had perfected the art of cinnamon bun mugcake making at work. Apparently most of the ingredients were non-perishable and desk stash appropriate. Who knew.  

 

She wondered idly while she pulled up her Netflix account how much weight the conference room table could hold. 

 

“There,” he finished whatever he was doing with a flourish. “Apologies for my rudeness love.” 

 

Emma waved him off. 

 

“No need for “apologies”  _ mate _ . You have a job to do, I’m a big girl I can keep  _ myself  _ entertained, I don’t need you.” she gave him a challenging look, knowing she was playing with fire in her place of business but also seeing a ziplock bag with flour and brown sugar peeking out of his backpack and two mugs on the table. 

  
  


Killian licked his lips one eyebrow raising of it’s own accord. It seemed that friendly professionalism was as easy to overcome as an enunciated word and a look. The next glance he gave her could probably have set her panties ablaze, it was pure sex, the slow rove of his eyes, the tip of his tongue pressed to his teeth, the absolute promise in his expression.

 

Emma swallowed.

 

“Now Swan. What did I say about a challenge?” 

 

_____

 

Unfortunately for Emma there was still work to be done and network security to test. Killian’s associates were planning a denial of service attack and some other things she didn’t understand, so the promise on his face was something she would have to wait to see actualized. 

 

And even more unfortunate was that the work itself was  _ boring _ .

 

The movies certainly made hacking seem like fast paced, adrenaline pumping, green numbers flying, epilepsy inducing excitement but in reality it was more programs scanning things and results monitoring and phone calls to Archie their head of Network Security for status updates and questions.

 

Watching Killian explain what he was doing in detail though was definitely  _ not  _ boring though. Whenever he could, he went over the process and his rather informal checklist in detail, explaining how each new task worked and what he was checking for and the various ways less scrupulous people could get into this complex system she took for granted. He was that same enthusiastic boyish nerd from their committee meetings only this time it was even more detailed, and even more technical, and even more nerdy. Mostly she just liked watching his mouth form the words, imagining through various explanations about “SQL Injections” and “cross site scripting” what exactly he could do with it.

 

Each time her brain wandered in that direction he seemed to sense the change, his eyes darkening in response to something primal in her expression, and he would lean a bit closer. 

 

It was absolute torture.

 

Which is why hours later, after their cinnamon bun cakes had been eaten, a large pot of coffee had been consumed, and all the potential exploits and vulnerabilities had been explored, Emma decided she just couldn’t take it any more.

 

Killian was crawling around on his hands and knees on the floor, ever the gentleman handling the unplugging of the devices and retrieving of cords, when Emma struck. 

 

She swiveled her chair to face him, scooting it into his space in one movement. 

 

Killian looked up in surprise, still on all fours, mouth gaping, and she took advantage of his momentary distraction, leaning down to grab him by the collar of his well pressed dress shirt, and hauled him up to her mouth.

 

He was frozen for a heartbeat, his hands coming up automatically to brace themselves on the arm of the chair, the position rather ridiculous, but it wasn’t another before his mouth was opening under her own. His skin hot under had hands, stubble rough as she reached up to palm his face.  Her other hand moved of its own accord to bury in the hair at the nape of his neck, tugging slightly, and the noise he made into her mouth in response had a frisson of electricity going straight to her core. 

 

He was still on his knees, half in her lap, one hand holding the chair steady the other tangled in her hair as well.

 

It was a hell of a kiss. Teeth scraping against bruising lips, all wet heat and panting into the other’s mouth. Emma moved her hands back down, over the cords of his neck, brushing against his collarbone, and found her way down to the buttons of his shirt. 

 

Her fingers scrabbled against the plastic as he pulled away from her lips with the barest tug of his teeth, nosing into space between her neck and shoulder, teeth scraping there too, rising up as far as he could on his knees to reach. 

 

“We can’t do this here,” Emma bit out, breathless as another jolt of pure adrenaline and arousal had her rubbing her thighs together, frustrated, in the chair. 

 

“Apologies,” he gasped out, slowly pulling away. He leaned back on his haunches, trying to get his breathing under control. “I didn’t intend-”.

 

“Because Philip does sweeps of all the floors every 2 hours,” Emma finished, cutting him off. “And it’s almost time for him to stop by.” 

 

Killian looked at her curiously from the floor, his chest flushed red. His blue eyes were blown almost black, his expression a different sort of fierce, mouth slightly swollen. Emma wanted to tackle him and ride him into the ugly conference room carpet. Instead she calmly smoothed her hair back and stood.  

 

“But I think I have a place.” 

  
  


______

 

The handrail of the elevator was digging into her ass, but she barely noticed, one leg planted firmly on the floor, the other resting over his shoulder. One hand braced itself beside her on the bar to steady her, fingers opening and closing involuntarily on the metal, the other buried in his hair as he proved that the mouth she had spent a considerable amount of time fantasizing about was every bit as talented as she’d imagined. 

 

The private parking garage and elevator, usually reserved for Regina alone was the perfect spot for a clandestine tryst with the firm’s new security consultant, only checked twice at the beginning and end of each shift, and close enough to the small conference room they’d shared that Emma didn’t lose her nerve on the way. 

 

It was also pretty forgiving acoustically, her breathy moans echoing in the small space but going no further. 

 

The stroke of his tongue and the press of his fingers was always just hard enough, just fast enough, the rhythm of his ministrations timed perfectly to the beat of her heart and the pant of her breath. Perceptive as always, she was flying, screaming, over the edge in mere minutes, her leg trembling, as she fought to stay upright through wave after wave of one of the most intensely pleasurable experiences of her life, fueled by weeks of sexual promise and what felt like hours of verbal and mental foreplay.

 

He carried her through it, expertly coaxing her down, pressing a hard wet kiss to her inner thigh, and helped her lower her other, equally as shaky, leg to the ground, steadying her. 

 

Emma kept her eyes closed, a heaving mess against the metal wall, her fingers stroking idly through his hair for a few moments before he rose with a slight groan, the hard floor and his position no doubt hell on the knees, and then he was there, right where she wanted him, his chest pressed to her own, his arousal hard against her hip. 

 

Emma snaked her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his in a slow, lazy kiss, her release making her languid and liquid, limbs heavy. She fit her hips into his own. Killian smiled happily against her mouth for a moment, letting out a low moan, and then tilted his head to kiss her more deeply, but made no move to take it any further, just content to devour her with relaxed sweeps of his tongue and slow movements of his lips on hers.

  
  


“I could make a pun here Swan,” he said softly against her mouth, his hands skimming her sides, a buzz of excitement hitting her lower back as he stroked the sensitive area. “I’ve all manner of inappropriate jokes for this situation.”

He rested his forehead against hers, grinning. Emma merely smiled, reaching down to hook her thumb into the waistband of his jeans, giving them a tug. 

 

“I have a better idea.” 

  
  


______

 

Getting back to the conference room and packing up their stuff is a giddy, blushing, ridiculous affair, of intermittent lazy kisses, followed by much more intense passionate kisses, followed by whispered reminders that it was 3 in the morning and they couldn’t linger much longer or they would most assuredly be caught.

 

His shirt is untucked and her hair is snarled from rubbing against cold steel, but she is warm and sated, and happy and judging by the rather dopey and soft eyed expression on his face, so is he. They probably look exactly like two people who just had sex in the elevator of a private garage, but Emma finds it very difficult to care when he tucks her into his side on the ride down, a kiss pressed to the top of her hair.

Emma hoped, as they made their way to turn in Killian’s vistors badge, that Phillip wouldn’t pay  _ too close  _ attention to their appearance. She was, after all, his superior and Killian was a guest. Fortunately, the lights were off in the lobby when they arrived, the only illumination the glow of the video monitors on the guard’s youthful face.

 

Philliip looked up at the pair and quickly looked away, seemingly embarrassed despite the fact that he couldn't even see them.

 

“E-evening Emma,” he stuttered out. “Mr. Jones.”    
  


Emma looked at him suspiciously, taking the pass from Killian’s hand and sliding it across the counter.

 

“Everything okay Phillip?” 

 

“A-okay,” Phillip gave a nervous laugh. “Everything is fine here. No problems whatsoever.” 

 

Emma frowned as he fumbled the badge back into it’s designated drawer, signing off in the log that it had been returned with a shaking hand. 

 

“Are you...certain?” Killian asked, exchanging a look with Emma at the man’s rather odd behavior. 

 

“Just thought you might want to know,” Phillip said finally after taking a deep breath, then nervously clearing his throat.

 

“Just in case it was useful information to you….both. That the ticket for the security camera in the private garage was completed and closed yesterday. All camera feeds are completely online and operational.”

  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I play a little fast and loose with what penetration testing actually entails. Please feel free to come say hi on tumblr (@ripplestitchskein).


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